<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Apogee by Walker_August</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024655">Apogee</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August'>Walker_August</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Yearning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:42:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>983</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walker_August/pseuds/Walker_August</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Basorexia : the overwhelming desire to kiss.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Apogee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You sigh sweet and secret as you watch the Mandalorian from across the room, illuminated by the white bright morning sun coming through the open loading door meeting his shining armour, highlighting him in your vision so that even when you closed your eyes you see his strong form.</p><p>Your Mandalorian.</p><p>No, you shake yourself out of the reverie. Not your Mandalorian, only yours in the charcoal dark when you sleep soundly and your mind fills with the imagined caress of his tender affection. In the night you can imagine he is yours, wants to be. You mellow at the thought of those dreams, let your mind wander just for a second.</p><p>He’s never been cold with you, not once. When he plucked you from nowhere and offered you to work on his ship and help care for the kid, you’d been certain he would be a brutish warrior and nothing more. You could not have been more wrong. He was quiet, kind, warm under all that harsh steel.</p><p>And he offered you a place, a purpose. Asked you to stay even when your initial agreement was up, said he couldn’t imagine being on the ship without you anymore. Of course, he only meant that he liked how you kept the kid entertained and quiet and were helpfully domestic when he needed it. But you still let your heart flutter and dance at his words because in some way he was saying he needed you.</p><p>You want him to need you in every way.</p><p>It isn’t in him though, isn’t something you dare to think he’s aware of. He isn’t consumed with the thought of lifting his helmet and pressing his lips to yours. Of holding you close and kissing you until you’re breathless. He can’t be.</p><p>So you don’t let yourself think about it either. Try, at least.</p><p>But here it is again now, deep and woeful in you, as you watch him do nothing more than work on a broken panel before you set off for the next destination of this never-ending adventure your life with him had become. Everything is quiet, the child sleeps soundly and all there is is the rising and falling of your breath as you toy with the necklace you wear – the one he bought you when he saw you eyeing it at the market, a token of his appreciation he had said. When he had put it on you, in your fantasy his fingers grazed your neck with clear intent, and he sighed like he was thinking of kissing your soft skin.</p><p>“You’re quiet today” he comments, pulling you out of the rewritten memory. His voice is gravelly, slightly tinny through the modulator, but it’s comforting.</p><p>“Sorry” you reply, “just daydreaming I guess”</p><p>It sounds too much like thinking about kissing you to you. Too obvious in your voice that the thoughts are romantic and you’re drowning in them. But if he picks up on it, he doesn’t say a thing, nods with a slight chuckle at your dazed state. For a minute you two just look at each other, you smile at him, always content in his presence, and somehow you think he smiles back at you under the helmet.</p><p>“Could you help me with this, if you’re not too busy daydreaming?” he asks, now you can hear the hint of that smile in his voice. It makes you laugh, happy, as you move to stand besides him.</p><p>He shows you what he needs you to do, just hold down a small loose wire while he fixes it in place. You have to lean so close to him that you your heartbeat picks up again as that unbearable urge to touch him, kiss him, seeps back into you like a fog that covers every logical thought. If he didn’t have on the armour, if he ever let you see his face, you could lean in and discover exactly what it felt like to have your lips on his. You could bask in him like you’ve always wanted to. You have never wanted anything in the way you want to kiss this man and it’s going to break you.</p><p>When you both move at the same time, you shifting in your stance as he leans in to work, your cheek presses against the side of the helmet, where his is underneath it. The cool beskar on your face doesn’t even register because it’s his reaction that makes you balk as you stutter out an apology.</p><p>You hadn’t even touched him, not really, but you could swear there was the smallest sound of that sigh again through the modulator. Like he can feel you, so close, soft breath amplified, like he wants you close and even if it’s just in your imagination like before, your heart might burst at the simple sound.</p><p>You’re frozen in time, almost. Stuck. There’s the desperate cloying in you to do something.</p><p>And then, like everything else around you is forgotten, his gloved hand grazes against yours and slowly covers it. The tingling warmth extending from your hand up your arm and straight in to your soul.</p><p>Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe you’re delusional.</p><p>Either way, you cannot stop the way the unbearable desire makes you turn your head, makes you brush your own soft lips against the same place on the cold metal covering his face. His hand grips yours tighter. You feel the aching longing in you begin to dissipate, just slightly but it’s like you’re allowed to breathe again.</p><p>The Mandalorian whimpers beautifully at the soft contact that isn’t really even true contact. He feels it, feels something, you can tell. You are closer than you’ve ever been and finally you find some sense of understanding. His words, his actions becoming clear to you in a hazy bloom that makes you catch your breath.</p><p>Perhaps he is your Mandalorian.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>